She'll Be Right!

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I'm back for another post and I must admit, I am a changed man since my last one. While I haven't figured out how to stop my ever-receding hairline from further depleting I have checked the box on my bucket list for bungy (bungee) jumping. Not only that, I bungy'd off the tallest bungy attraction in the whole of New Zealand and Australia. More on this further down - but first I must bring you up to speed on the things that happened since my last post including the aforementioned moment of dare develish glory. One of the other secondees Ryan (who happens to be one of the happiest and most energetic people on this planet) proposed every Wednesday that our group get together for Winesday. Winesday requires each attendee to bring a bottle of wine of their choosing as well as a classy snack in an effort to elevate our sophistication and class in appreciating different varieties of wine. What Winesday actually turns out to be in practice is two of the Australians refusing to purchase anything other than Aussie based wines and those of us guys that don't regularly drink wine to find the bottle with the most gold/silver medal stickers at the cheapest price. Regardless of how we might be failing to live up to the original intent of the night, it has served as one of many ways that our group has grown closer. On the second occurrence of Winesday we had fun to the tune of a noise complaint, living up to the legacy of previous secondees. My apartment with Scott was dubbed the Gallery by the creative genius in our group (who also happens to be the author of this blog) and I've found that there is no greater location for Winesday. With fine art, high quality vino (and some average Aussie product - just kidding, it's all been good), matched with great company, Winesday has quickly made Wednesday into a much more prominent day of the week.

After noise-complaint-Winesday I was greeted with a very difficult day-after-Winesday-Thursday. There will be a time in my life when I pay heed to the kind of self advice that only comes with a sleep deprived morning of dehydration and morning after wine belches, but that time has escaped me to this point. After enduring a day of audit hell on a client kissed by demons I had to get my sh*t together and make myself presentable for a secondee dinner hosted by the managing partner of the host firm. He told us in advance to dress casual, but none of us fell for the "trick". We all showed up dressed way too nice for our host's t-shirt and jeans, but better safe than sorry, ay? After a fun dinner, we used our taxi chits (kiwi for cab voucher) and made our way back to the apartments to get nowhere near enough sleep before catching our 7am flight to Queenstown!

As I mentioned in my previous post if you ask any kiwi what the one place to visit in New Zealand is they will tell you Queenstown. It's all too common that when things are raved about they end up being over-hyped or failing to meet the high expectations that you set. Queenstown deviated from this rule. Queenstown was amazing in almost every way. The initial plan was to land around 9am and then hop on a 13-passenger plane that would fly us into the Milford Sound where we would take an hour and a half cruise through the sound before flying back to Queenstown. This was going to be an expensive, but amazing way to see the sound. Hugged by mountains and a lake in the middle, the city offers gorgeous views around every corner, allowing us to fly into arguably the most picturesque airport in the world. All of the excitement and buildup was quickly derailed when we received the news that it was too windy to fly into the sound and that we would need to call back the next day. Down but not out, we went to our hostel and checked in. Quick plug: if you find yourself heading to Queenstown, NZ stay at Adventure Queenstown Hostel. You will not find a better bargain with good quality facilities in such a central location than this place. AQ restored my faith in hostels - giving me the WiFi my phone so desperately craved to upload weeks of videos to my FB (sorry to all those disgusted with me polluting your mini-feeds) and a place to call home during my favorite weekend of the trip.

After checking in, we dropped our bags off and made our way to the gondola that would take us up to the luge. I wasn't quite sure what to expect with the luge, but it turned out to be a nice warm-up to a weekend filled with adventure. The luge course puts you in an engine-less go-cart that's dependent on a downhill course. After five runs of semi-competitive racing we made our way onto a bus that would take us about 45 minutes outside of the city to Skipper's Canyon for jet boating. Along the way we passed through much of middle Earth and witnessed our driver, Peter (honestly one of the bigger d*cks I've met on this trip), commit a hit and run. He managed to mutter a "whelp" before pulling off. At least the victims were building a snowman, so their day wasn't a complete downer. Having your driver carelessly back into a vehicle wasn't the most comforting thing to experience before he took your life in his hands on some extremely narrow mountain roads. Peter finally got us to our destination on the Shotover River for some jet boating, an amazing experience in which our boat driver did a splendid job of pressing up close to the canyon walls and spinning us into giggling delight. After the jet boat we made our way back to town to get some of the much hyped and talked about Fergburger. Branded as the best burger in the world, the Ferg turned out to be the biggest disappointment of the trip. Don't get me wrong, I ate it and enjoyed eating it and thought about eating it again later on in the weekend. However, calling Fergburger the best burger in the world is a disgrace to even the most sinful of hyperbole.

Friday night the group went on a pub crawl the resulted in way too many pictures, but good times all around. Saturday morning we woke with a turbulent start - both literally (you'll see) and figuratively (thanks pub crawl). The flight conditions were once again too windy for us to go the Sound. Because we only had three full days in Queenstown that meant one thing: Saturday would be the day that this guy gave away his bungy virginity. Leading up to this weekend I had talked a big game in our group about how excited I was to bungy and that I loved that kind of thrill-seeking lunacy. When it came time to put my money where my mouth was and set my juevos on the table I became suspiciously quiet. I continuously blamed this sudden shyness on the after effects of a late night pub crawl, but the truth was I was feeling the nerves in a big way. After copious amounts of glasses of water and delusional self assurances I joined my mates on the scariest bus ride of our lives only because of what was waiting at our destination, the Nevis Bungy and Swing. Suspended a couple hundred meters above the canyon river was what looked from a distance to be a cage of death. We rode the sketchiest tram on some way-too-thin cables into the death cage and met the guys that we were trusting our lives with. These three guardians consisted of two young lads and an older one who was easily the evilest of the trio. Old man river was in charge of the music and christened us with "Stairway to Heaven", I noted the irony in this and made a nervous comment followed by an even more nervous chuckle. He took sweet, sadistic delight in this recognition, erupting in a bellowing, sinister laugh. The order of jumping was slotted for heaviest to lightest and because God is good, Ryan was the first of our group to go. I was lined up for second and was very comforted by the idea that if the rope held for Ryan it would most certainly hold for me (as long as they attached it properly!). As I sat in the chair while my guardians attached the rope to my harness the Imperial March (Darth Vaders theme) came on the speakers. The old man gave me one last diabolical laugh and asked me if the force was strong with me. I awkwardly grunted out "I guess we'll find out if I'm on the dark side" and he seemed to enjoy it. At this point I was beyond caring about his twisted fear-inducing fetish and was blankly following the instructions of my nicer guardian. After getting fully hooked up, I penguin waddled to the edge of the platform and did what we were instructed not to do: I looked down. I had to, but even in doing so had decided I was just going to go for it when he got to three. I took the leap without hesitation and it all happened in such a blur. As I type this or any time I sit and really think about this moment, my hands start sweating. That free fall is beyond anything that I could type here or capture in a video. All I can say is that you can feel yourself picking up speed and you can absolutely sense the ground coming closer and closer. 8.5 seconds of free falling. Think about that. Count to 8 and think about free falling during that time. That's an eternity and yet also a blur that's over in a heartbeat.After my guardians reeled me back up to the death cage I was more shaky and jittery than I was before jumping. The adrenaline and craziness of the whole thing was still jolting my nerves. That and taking a 300 meter (900 ft) arcing swing ride awaiting also had something to do with it. Ryan and I were the only two in our group that opted to do both the bungy and the swing and as we walked over to yet another suspended death cabin I mentioned to him that I felt like we were tempting fate. Regardless, we ventured out onto a wobbly Indiana Jones-esque bridge that was almost as terrifying as the bungy and the swing in order to get to the pod that we would be swinging from. We decided to do a tandem swing because we were under the 500kg weight limit by just 10 kg. The staff convinced us that by coming in just under the weight limit we were ensuring ourselves of an epic swing. The physics made sense, the safety factor did not. Oh well, you only YOLO once, amiright?! We harnessed up and got connected to our swing and placed into swinging position. The guardians in the death nest seemed much nicer than the aforementioned trio. That is until it came swing time and the guy told us that when people go tandem they put their arms around each other. Right as we went to reach our arms around he dropped us when we were least suspecting it. The swing was almost as thrilling as bungying, but just a touch less insane. There's something about willingly jumping off a platform and falling straight down that trumps any sort of swing contraption. Either way - I am thrilled that I did both of these things so much so that I felt the need to purchase the picture and video package to both of these lifetime memory events ( http://www.ididit.co.nz/vault/106668 ).

Saturday night was fairly subdued as the group had decided to ensure we would see Milford Sound and the only way to do this was to book a coach tour that would start a little after 7am Sunday morning. We got picked up by a lovely Aussie fellow named Oz who has been my favorite tour guide thus far and embarked on a 4-hour journey to Milford Sound. There is no better country that I've been to than New Zealand when it comes to driving from place to place. The mountains and scenery are incredible everywhere here and the road to Milford Sound was loaded with beautiful sites. I am again at a loss for words (ironic considering I am over 2,000 words into this post) when it comes to describing the things I saw. I've uploaded all of my pictures to Facebook, but again - the camera just doesn't provide the same visual justice that actually seeing these things does. We got to the sound and took a 2 hour ferry through it and I can easily say that it is the most spectacular setting I have ever been in. Even on a cloudy day, I was still blown away by the stunning collage of mountains, water and waterfalls. Rudyard Kipling called Milford Sound the 8th wonder of the world and I have to say that the Jungle Book wasn't the only thing he completely nailed (shout out to the homies from day one, Mowgli and Baloo!). On the drive back from the sound the sun set and it was dark out. With the stunning scenery escaping visibility, Oz deftly put on a movie of Aussie lore - Castle. The three Aussies I was with told me this was a staple of Aussie comedic film and I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed the dry, simplistic humor of it. If you enjoyed Napoleon Dynamite and get a kick out of quirky humor I strongly suggest you give it a watch.

Monday we flew back to Auckland and reality. Well sort of. I am still in New Zealand living a dream come true. Tuesday night we went to the FIFA U20 World Cup match between the host team, New Zealand (referred to as the "All Whites", a team name that would never be acceptable in America. To be fair their rugby team is referred to as the "All Blacks" - so you can't play the discrimination card on them) and the USA. Myself and Ryan went to a party store the night before both to get costumes for our work's midyear party the following Friday, but mainly to drape ourselves in American red, white and blue (they have the same colors, but we have white stars!). Donning an Uncle Sam'ish top hat, red-white-and-blue feather boa (yes I bought all three colors), stars and stripes Kanye styled glasses and an American flag cape there was no mystery which side I was associated with. The result (4-0 Americans) made the night much better for my chosen attire. After another Winesday, a Game of Thrones viewing Thursday (thanks Jason!) and the mid-year party for our firm on Friday to look forward to, the week blew by. All events were more than helpful in easing back into reality from the dream that was Queenstown. On Saturday I moved apartments and bid farewell to my Australian flatmate (roommate), Scott. I am no longer living in the gallery and am adjusting to life without art (having two American flags draped over the furniture has helped with this transition). On Saturday I also got my first New Zealand haircut and the first haircut that I've paid for in almost a decade. I have been giving myself basic boi haircuts since I was in college and had grown accustomed to cutting my hair whenever I felt like it. After falling victim to the wattage differences here my clippers literally melted when I gave myself my first haircut here. Don't worry - I finished it, but at what cost? Pretty sure my chances at cancer went up at the cost of finishing that hair cut. After the hair cut we went to my first Rugby match - a match between the local Auckland Blues and the Christchurch Crusaders. The Blues are second to last in the league and the Crusaders have won more league championships than any other team. Additionally, the Crusaders feature two of the top members of the All Blacks. This game played out much like my lead in would make you think - a blow out in favor of the visitors. Regardless, we had a great time attending the game and had good seats for cheap! Big shout out to Sam O'Reilly for hosting us beforehand for a proper tailgate at his apartment (kudos to his girlfriend Rachel for tolerating all of this!).

Sunday was pretty tame - Ryan, Emily and I went for a hike on the Fairy Falls Track and only took an hour or so longer than we anticipated with some mapping difficulties. That's all for now - sorry for the long read, but I think I've mentioned before that this blog is just as much for me later on in life when I want to look back on this trip as it is for sharing it with all of you. For those of you that made it this far, I will buy you a beer and tell you more stories about my insanely amazing kiwi journey. That way if you feel like you've wasted your time reading this, she'll be right!

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